Well, I’m coming up on
the one-year anniversary of arriving in Vanuatu (on October 9th—my
one-year anniversary of being on Tanna, working as a teacher, isn’t ‘til
December 12th). Just as they predicted and warned us during
training, I’m starting to hit kind of a motivational/emotional slump. It’s a
little eerie how accurately they seem to have mapped out the highs and lows of
Peace Corps service, but I suppose it’s also reassuring that all of this is as
expected and mundane as adolescent angst.
It’s a reasonable time
to start feeling down. Nearing the one year mark makes me reflect on my service
so far—after all, it’s getting close to being halfway over—and I hope I’m not
the only volunteer who, in reflecting on her work to this point, starts to wonder
what the hell she’s actually accomplished.
I mean, I’ve done
stuff. The students are much better at using the library, and five students
from Class 6 are now working, semi-independently, as librarians. I’ve made a
number of teaching games for Classes 1 and 2 that they play with all the time.
I’ve raised the basic phonics skills of most students in Class 2, and several
of them are now able to read simple books mostly on their own. The small
reading groups I work with have mostly moved up a level or two.
But the stuff I haven’t
done seems even bigger. The library still isn’t totally waterproofed. The
teachers still don’t bring their classes to exchange books during class time,
or show any interest in learning how to find books they want for their classes on
their own. I haven’t done nearly enough work with Class 1, and many of them
still don’t know the alphabet. Only about five out of the sixteen students in
Class 2 are actually able to read mostly on their own, and none of them knows
long vowel sounds yet. I haven’t created
any kind of school-wide discipline/incentive program that the teachers actually
make use of. I haven’t done any kind of training with the teachers to improve
their teaching. The workshops I’ve done with the teachers have been utterly
ineffective—the teachers still don’t make lesson plans, still don’t give any
kind of assessment other than the end of term test, and still create their
tests at the last second, on material they haven’t thoroughly taught to the
students, in formats that the students are unfamiliar with (at the end of term
two, every single student in Class 5 except for one failed their English and
Maths tests, and that’s not entirely the fault of the students). I work with
Classes 3 and 4 once a week, but can pretty well tell that I have not taught
them anything, and their teacher no longer bothers to stay in the room when I’m
teaching. I haven’t even tried to work with Classes 5 and 6, because their
teacher is gone from the room (and sometimes school) so often that I would
basically become a substitute teacher.
In short, I’m looking
back at my year in Vanuatu so far, and thinking, “So, what was the point of
that?” I feel like I’m not doing nearly a good enough job. I feel like I don’t
really know how to do a better job, and sometimes, even that I don’t care
enough to do a better job. And I’m frustrated with the aspects of the culture
here that make it so very hard create positive change in a school.
When I’m feeling
upbeat, and doing fun things outside of the school, and enjoying the culture
and environment here, this stuff doesn’t get to me. After all, the Peace Corps
isn’t entirely about our primary assignments—teaching in schools, or working at
aid posts, or assisting with local businesses, whatever it may be. The Peace
Corps is also largely about cultural exchange. So when I’m feeling positive
about that, about sharing American culture with people here and Ni-Vanuatu
culture with people back in the States, then problems at school don’t get me
down.
But when I start to
feel bored, and lonely, and homesick, and don’t have anything to do outside of
the school…well, that’s when my failure to create substantial or sustainable
change really gets to me. Because if I’m not changing anything here, then why
am I here? Why am I sitting on this tiny island that almost no one even knows
exists, feeling frustrated and lonely, instead of back at home where I have
family and friends, and a culture and community that I feel I really belong to?
I don’t know. A year
ago I was so sure of myself, and now I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here. Of
course, I’m not going home—I’m not even considering it. Because the work I’m
doing here, no matter how small and fleeting, is still good work. Because I
have another whole year to try and do better. Because I still have moments and
experiences that are amazing, and that I couldn’t have anywhere else. Because I
made a commitment. Because this feeling of disappointment will pass. And
because this experience here will pass, too, and I know that once it’s over,
and I’m back in the USA, I will miss it so much, and it is something I will
never have again.
And if I’m honest with
myself, even in America I had times when I felt lonely, and frustrated, and
disappointed. I sometimes felt bored and useless and sad. Sure, it happens more
here in Vanuatu, and it’s harder to cope with here, as well. And in America I
did have times where I felt useful, and excited, and like I was a part of
something larger than myself. But that also happens more here in Vanuatu, and
those times feel even more amazing, and I know that I am lucky to get to have
them.
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